Ode to my Broken Heart
by Gavzilla
Summary: Maybe I wrote this convoluted memoir, this personal account, because it is cathartic in a way, a way that I am able to air the grievances that has afflicted me all these years—Even if you don't read this, they will—to share my experience and to help those who may feel the same way, for this is to my heart... an Ode to my Broken Heart...
1. Ode to my Broken Heart

For how her countenance still shines in my mind! Her beautiful smile, her luscious red hair, her toned round face, her entrancingly sweet brown eyes, and her voice. Oh! Her cute voice! There is a perpetual innocence that manifests itself within its light, fluffy sound. It brings me nothing but joy to hear its euphony and resonance on my ears. And her alluring giggle that she tries to cover with her hand! Why would you cover such an adorable noise? Hide such an intoxicating mien? For simply her presence alone could resurrect my senses from any tribulation, pander my feelings into a state of frenzy and euphoria. How the excitement bubbles within me as my eyes meet hers! As she waves her hand in greeting to me! For what have I done to grant me this interaction? To be able to associate myself with beauty that has never before been seen on this earth?

For it has been five years since I've met you, and the occasion still replays in my mind with vivid detail. I found you sitting alone underneath a walnut tree, a book in your hand. (Oh how there is always a book in your hand.) Silently reading you were, with that small smile on your face and finger twirling in your hair. I was speechless. Never before have I felt such an emotion. I paused on the trail I was walking along and pondered for what felt like forever. You caught my stare as you peered from your book, your face looking to me with a questioning look. You smiled at me with your beautiful complexion, inquiring me of my presence. I panicked. No words formed in my mind. A giant blanket of nimbose dominated my conscience as I scrambled for a reaction. I stood there, mouth agape, stuttering over myself. I fanatically gabbled an apology for my interruption. You chuckled and smiled at my stupidity, surely, adding a calming reassurance to your reply. You turned back to your book, that small smile returning. I tried to continue on my journey, but my legs cemented to the floor. My brain was rebelling my commands. As if I was possessed by some other being in my corporeal body, my mouth opened and I inquired specifically about the book that you were reading. You looked up from your book with a surprised face, your smile returning as you flipped the book to its title, absorbing the cover. "Some Sunday's Summer's Steppings." You looked to me with that cute smile. If I shall be honest (and they say that honesty is best), I never read much before this moment; yet, with you, predictably, I had no further wish but to read with you. I stumbled over my words further, asking you about the details of the novel. You looked at me and chuckled as you invited me under your walnut tree. That's when I learned your name, Mayl.

After that first day I would always find my way back to that same trail to that same walnut tree to that same woman. Every time I reunited with her there was a different book in her hand, a book that I would ask her about and listen to her intelligent discourse. I smiled as I heard her smart interpretations and understanding of the subtext that plagues the text of her choice. You were always more intelligent than I, for what am I intelligent with? My mind has been bounded by my stupidity, my slowness, for my predilection overpowers my intellection. Despite my confusion with most of the things you say, you always were able to explicate to me your thoughts and arguments in ways that even I may understand. You are a perfect teacher, a skilled instructor, for your intentions are honorable and admirable. Your brain is a carnivore for knowledge, a maze of acquaintances that overwhelms all other senses but your own. Am I envious? Am I jealous? I think not, for how can I desire something that I will never achieve? With you I am a student. With you I am your lesser. But you don't treat me like one. You treat me like an equal. Because of that there is no greater wish for me than to be able to speak with you with the prestige and pretension in which you emanate; yet, the conversation we did share will forever be with me. Your personality is the perfect companion to your pertness.

But when we are not speaking of novels, novellas, short stories, or even the infrequent poem or play, you delighted me with your wonderful laugh and smile. For you were the same age, and experiencing the same life. Our conversations extended far more into our education, our friends, our work. You were more popular than I would have thought. (But, of course, how could you not? How could I think such a fallatical thing?) And it became apparent that we were actually a friend of a friend. Although he was a neighbor to you, he was a teammate to me. A kind, honorable man that exposits sportsmanship that all should acknowledge. In fact, the first time I met him was on the soccer field. Although unbeknownst to me at the time, he was on the opposing team. It was the first game of the season, but, unfortunately, it had rained a couples hours before, making the field have pockets of mud spread about. Although this helped in terms of the sliding tackle, it didn't help with anything else. Teammates and opponents alike were constantly slipping on the field, causing for a sloppier game. I remained generally balanced and free from the mud's fugacious foothold. However, this changed during the third quarter of the game. In an aggressive move, I was able to steal the ball from my surprised opponent. As I began my dash down the field to the opposite goal, I tried to look back to deduce whether or not I was being pursued by my enemies and if any of my teammates were following after me. This curiosity pleaded dangerous as I misstepped into a puddle of mud and quickly dropped to the ground, the soccer ball rolling further in front of me. Luckily, I landed on my stomach and didn't roll or sprain my ankles. Fate as her own destiny, fortunately, as the player behind me slipped on the mud as well, and in the chaos he accidentally impaled my leg with some of the spikes of his cleat. The spikes weren't even a centimeter or so long, but they caused multiple punctures on my fleshy calf, which began bleeding almost immediately. I still remember clenching in pain as the back my leg began to spaz slightly out of shock. You, my culprit, my victimizer, were the first to be at my side. You were the first to help me from my feet and lead me to my bench. There was not a word from your mouth that wasn't an apology. The genuineness that dominated your voice is a color that I will never forget. A bandage was wrapped around my leg, and I was taken out the rest of the match. Yet, after the game was over (the winner I unfortunately lost to the sands of time, but surely it was you and your team who were the victors), I was again approached by you, this time accompanied with the gift of friendship. Later would I get the chance to play alongside you, Lan, rather than against you. I consider this to be one of the many blessings of my life.

A friendship was burnished in the steel of life that day. A friendship that, I supposed, would last for the length of our lives. As opponents he would come to me after the game and we would speak for a few minutes before our teams must divide and depart. As partners we would always speak with each other during practices, before games, during games, after games, not even to mention the countless times we abided each other outside of our sport. Yet, one moment forever prominences itself to me; I ascertained this conversation, and I hear it's reverbrance in the echoes of my mind. We were sitting at a park bench near the field, recovering from another loss; yet, our morale was high. We were appreciating our time together before you beamed with such expression that I never experienced from you. You retold your story of a childhood friend, a beautiful woman, a neighbor. A person for whom you had much affection. That was when you told me her name. You articulated your plan to inamorate her, to gift yourself as an appropriate novio for her, for she was manless. You were confident and gleeful in your plan, and I encouraged you, for how could I not feel happy for you? For what other emotion would be apposite? I smiled at him and wished him well and good fortune, for in the following days he would execute his masterplan. (Who knew that asking for a woman's hand in companionship was such a stressful and daunting task? Apropos to my initial encounter with her, I now understand in the hindsight the counterintuitive interactions between both the man and the woman in these scenarios. I forever wish fortune for those looking for the favor of woman.) As I left that day and returned to my dwelling, I pondered none on the implications or consequences of his prospect. I realized then that I forget to tell him about my friendship with the woman I will soon only call friend.

I returned, a few days later, to that same trail to that same walnut tree to a now different woman. Seated next to her was the man whom I so respected, his arm surrounding her shoulders and eyes whose sight focused more on her than the book she held in her hands. As you saw me approach, you smiled and waved with such enthusiasm and welcomed me under your tree. I greeted your new girlfriend, and you became shocked as she greeted me just the same. I will never forget the smile you showed as you laughed with surprise as we explained our friendship to you. Raptured were your eyes, yet your face flummoxed. Finally, you became ecstatic after realizing the fact that two of your closest friends were already acquainted with each other. It felt like hours as I stood under that tree, laughing and joking, chronicling anecdotes of our past, furthering the knowledge we know about one another. Alas, as with the forever marching of time, the day transitioned to twilight, and it was time for us to asunder and return to our humble abodes. As I validicted, as we began to walk our opposite ways, I turned and watched as you and her left, arms around each other, chuckling to yourselves, smiling, laughing, as you accompanied each other. I stood there, alone, isolated, chuckling at the cute sight that I beheld before continuing my walk home. In the depths of my heart, an event that not even I could witness transpired: a fracture formed within my heart; an ache slowly panged my being. Oblivious to this occurrence, I thought that I was happy. I thought that I was happy for them. I'm sorry.

Undetected my retching heart, moaning in its pain, for the following days. Wider the crevice split as the image of them walking away together projected itself even in my dreams. Unassuming I was, unaware to this pain, for I have never experienced such a loss. Numb would I be no more as I returned, as per my routine, to that same trail to that same walnut tree to... them—the woman whom I loved and the man whom I respected. As I laid my eyes on them, as they sat peacefully, tranquilly, underneath their tree, my heart burst with emotion; erupted from the fracture of my swollen organ the pain, the misery, the loss, the anguish of my denial— my denegation—the regret, the lamentation, the fear, the resentment, the dolor, the remorse, the rueing, the grief, the discomfort, _the heartbreak_. I felt tears begin to well in my eyes; my lips began to quiver. But it was too late. They spotted my arriving, and they greeted me with pleasure. I forced a smile on my face, for what else could I do? I could not confess to them these emotions. I greeted them, and, in the best of my ability, tried to create an excuse to leave. A believable excuse. What exactly that excuse is as unknown as the victor of our original game; yet, a part of me is sure that you might remember—but my doubts are also quite numerous. However, the excuse worked, and I was able to effectively escape the situation that caused me so much suffering. And, as I walked away, I vowed to myself that I shall never return; my heart was not able to take it. The friendship that burnished has been tarnished and dulled.

This was the moment of my ideation; I lost her, and yet... I still have not come to terms with it. In the resulting days the grief of my soul was at its strongest, and reasons as to why I did not triumph this woman floated perpetually in mirage. My thoughts, my dreams, my conscience plagued by the regret of my passiveness. For did I ever have a chance? Would I ever have been able to call her my love? Could there ever be a day where I am the one with my hand wrapped around her shoulders, my head snuggling next to hers as she reads aloud the newest book of her collection, lying on the arbour underneath her walnut tree? See her cheering for me in the stands as I goal on my opposing team? Embrace her as she congratulates me after the game? Kiss her goodbye before her return home? Or are these simply distant possibilities? She like me, or she like me not? Would I have been able to satisfy her desires? Please her and treat her in the way in which she deserved to be treated? For what did she see in him? Was it only a childhood friend? Was it only the friendship that defined her decision? For does he appreciate her intelligence? Her jauntiness? Do you even understand the words that she studies? Or do you simply see her superficial? For what about her can you appreciate?—Stop!

An admirable man. An honest man. An innocent man. A respectable man. A caring man. How pitiful have I become! This loss—this grief that I struggle so has pitted myself against the man whom I love. The man whom I used to call brother. For woe is me! A miserable fool! How dare I ask my own self "Why am I not with this woman?" Why would she ever want a boy like me? An idiot so envious of his friend; a dolt so jealous of her company. I am a friend. I am an acquaintance. Happyness, joy, jollity, gladness, other emotions of contentment—these should be the only dominating affections in which I busy myself. My two best friends are now one! As I see other, I shall see another; As I see another, I shall see other. I spent my time moping and groaning at my ineptitude, my whataboutisms. My happiness is gone—how pathetic! For how can this control me? How can I allow this to grip me with chains and pull me down? I have become the victim of my own creation. But how will I recover? How could I recover? For these last years of my life I have dedicated myself to occupying my time, separating myself from the source that troubled me. Ironically, I found myself using the very thing that reminds me of you: books. Still, I will never be as intelligent as you. I will be nothing more but a poor attempt to imitate you.

How did I find myself writing such a convoluted memoir? For what purpose would I deduce that requires such a personal account be written? I was reminded of you recently. More than reminded, I came in contact with you. As I was walking blindly onward the esplanade, I found myself along that same trail to that same walnut tree to the same them. Underneath the tree they sat, smiling to each other as I heard the innocent voice reading from, most certainly, new literature. You both looked so happy together. I was taken back to the first day I met you. My pause on the trail, my staring eyes, and your welcoming smile. Then, I was taken aback to the time I met you. The soccer game, the cleat punctures, and the apologetic color of your voice. For I was so happy. I was so happy with you both. I was able to bask and share the combined happiness of you both; yet, my bemoaning heart will no longer allow it. I long to once again laugh with you, smile with you, _be_ with you. Maybe I wrote this convoluted memoir, this personal account, because it is cathartic in a way, a way that I am able to air the grievances that has afflicted me all these years—Even if you don't read this, they will—to share my experience and to help those who may feel the same way, for this is to my heart... an Ode to my Broken Heart...


	2. Epilogue

Tory sat underneath the tree, shaded against the noon sun. Laid against his knee, that he had raised towards his chest, was a notebook, opened to a blank page. Tory held a pen in his hand and began to write. Sentence after sentence, he crafted his inner monologue, expositing the pent up emotions that he suppressed for these last five years. Reaching its final form as basic chicken scratch on a page, Tory looked upon the chaotic writing. Numerous black splotches were scattered around the pages from the words he scribbled out. Yet, as he read through his ramblings, he was satisfied. He felt that he acknowledged every fault that deemed attention. He expected only a page of text; he received four. But for what purpose will it serve? Who could he share it with? No one, unfortunately. This he will shield from everything but himself.

"Tory?" he heard a voice call to him. His face glowed with surprise, almost scared as he was taken off guard with his name being called. He quickly looked around him to find the origin of the voice, and, as his heart sank into his body, he found the perpetrator.

"Tory!" Lan smiled as he walked towards him, "What's up, man? I haven't seen you in forever."

"Hey... Lan..." Tory forced a smile on his face, his heart continuing to sink further and further as he realized he still held the notebook on his lap.

"How've things been?" Lan asked, finally reaching the tree where Tory resided, "The team has never been the same since you left."

"Sorry about that..." Tory laughed awkwardly, closing the notebook he held, "I—it, it just didn't fit in my schedule anymore."

"I understand..." Lan replied, "That happened to me when I was younger. Not much you can do about it, unfortunately..." The two became quite for a moment.

"You still play, though?" Lan asked.

"I... ugh, I volunteer for the youth team every friday." Tory replied, "I help them practice and stuff like that..."

"That's cool!" he smiled, "I always wanted to do something like that, but the team takes up too much of my time. And, even during our off season, there aren't any teams playing."

"It's a lot of fun." Tory said, "Kids are a lot of fun to play with."

"I bet!" Lan laughed. Tory began to laugh slightly with him.

"You know, there's this one boy on the team who always seems to miss the ball when he kicks," Tory began to laugh some more, "And, one day, during one of their games, he actually managed to kick the ball down field to his teammates. He was so excited that he started to run victory laps around the field while the game was still in play."

"No way..." Lan laughed with him, "What did you guys do?"

"We kept trying to yell at him to get back in the game," Tory replied, "But we were laughing so hard that we could barely shout."

"Sounds like you have a great time." Lan commented.

"It's so fun, dude." Tory replied, "Honestly, you should volunteer too—" He stopped speaking. He instantly realized what he said. A fog of fear dominated his mind. For the first time, since that day, he managed to overcome his guilt and communicate with an old friend. He was caught off guard. Yet, the guilt still manifested itself within his system. He regretted what he said.

"I'll check it out." Lan smiled, "But you said it was on Fridays, right? We have practice on Fridays..." A moment of silence. Tory was petrified. Did he just accidentally reintroduce Lan back into his life? And if Lan is reintroduced, so would...

"Actually..." Lan's countenance showed that the gears in his head were turning, "Maybe I could talk with Coach about it. Maybe he could let me skip Friday practices in order to volunteer.

"Wait!" Lan's face beamed with eureka, "What if we practice with the youth league on Fridays? I mean, they practice at the park, right? That's only a couple blocks from the school. We could run there, you know? Some practice before the actual practice. It's the perfect plan!

"Plus, we could get to see you again!" Lan nudged Tory's shoulder, "I'll definitely talk to Coach about this tomorrow during practice." Tory's fear was justified.

"That's... great..." Tory tried to sound enthusiastic. Yet, he felt terrible. Is this not what he wished for in his writing? Is this not what he hoped for? This wish will never come to fruition unless he is able to absolve this regret. But that he did not know how.

"What's with the notebook?" Lan observed, "Writing down some thoughts?" He laughed, nudging Tory, once again, on his shoulder.

"Hehe..." Tory struggled to smile, his heart sinking further into the abyss, "N—no... Just... just looking over some notes from class, is all."

"Look at you: studying..." Lan smiled, "You were always smarter than me."

"Don't... don't say that..." Tory smiled slightly, "What you lack in intelligence you make up in skill."

"Make up in skill?" Lan asked, "I must be smarter than I think..." Lan and Tory both laughed.

"You don't give yourself enough credit." Tory replied, "You were always the best out of all of us."

"Now, Tory," Lan pretended to speak in a stern voice, "We talked about this. You were always the better player. We always lost when you were on the other team."

"Lost...?" Tory asked, surprised, "I thought you always won."

"What? Don't get crazy on me, now." Lan chuckled, "I don't think I ever won a game against you."

"Even our first?" Tory asked, "You had to have won that game, right?"

"You mean the game where I almost crippled you?" Lan asked, "You destroyed us. It was something like 0 and 4."

"Oh..." Tory mumbled, looking slightly to his notebook.

"Whenever we looked at the schedule and saw that we were playing against you, that was it." Lan continued, "You should have seen yourself on the field, Tory. You were fast, aggressive, and accurate."

"Your just hyperbolizing..." Tory reddened slightly.

"I wish..." Lan said, "You were quite an asset to our team. We really struggled after you left."

"That's not true!" Tory objected.

"You can ask Coach yourself..." Lan replied. There was a moment of silence.

"What happened to you, Tory?" Lan asked, "We used to hang out all the time and play soccer together, but after I started dating—..." A pause.

A look of concern developed on Lan's face. Tory turned and looked at Lan. He held his breath in absolute fear. Was this it? After all these years, this is how it ends? How stupid did he feel for coming to some place so public like a park! See?! This is what happens! This is what happens when you can't absolve your past! What an idiot he was. What a retarded fool he is. He could feel is heart sinking further and further and further. The emotions that laced his inner soul have been released. Five years of grief and regret, floating to his surface, perverting his very being. He prepared for the worst. He prepared to lose his closest friend. A friend whom he rejected for these last years.

"Tory...?" Lan asked. Tory's heart was no more. He knew what was coming.

"I—It... It's not..." Tory struggled, coming to his feet, "It's not what you think, Lan..."

"Tory... I—I had no idea!" Lan began to speak, "Wha—Why didn't you say something?"

"Lan..." Tory tried to interrupt.

"How could I not have realized?" Lan continued, "Why was it not obvious to me? It's as clear as day, now!"

"Lan, please..." Tory repeated.

"If I knew, I never would have asked—"

"Lan!" Tory shouted, "Lan, it's not what you think."

"You hate me, don't you?" Lan asked, "That's why you quit the team... That's why you stopped coming to the park..."

"No, Lan..." Tory replied, "I... I don't hate you. I never hated you."

"Then what happened?" Lan asked, "What made you leave?"

That tone! That same distinct tone! Where did he hear such a voice? That apologetic color? Why... yes! Of course! The soccer game! The rainy morning, the muddy field, the aggressive steal, the rush to the goal, the unfortunate fall, the punctured calf, and a concerned Lan... As if he was transported back to that scene, he could smell the turf of earth, feel the spaz of his leg, the flowing of blood from his calf, and he could feel the hands of Lan wrap around his shoulders, lifting him up, consoling him, apologizing to him. Seated at his bench, the wrapping of his leg was distinct to him...

" _Hey, man," you said to me, "I'm so, so sorry for that. I—I never meant to step on your leg like that."_

" _Don't worry about i—ah!" I whined as Coach began to pour some alcohol on my open wound._

" _The worst is over." Coach affirmed to me, placing the cap back on the alcohol bottle, "We'll just wrap this here bandage around your leg and you'll be limping in a jiffy!"_

" _Limping?" you spoke up, "I didn't sprain anything, did I?"_

" _No, no, I don't think nothing like that happened." He reassured him, "Just a couple punctures. It'll be sore for a day or two and scab over. Ain't nothing Tory can't handle." Coach winked at me._

" _I should've been more careful, man; I'm sorry." you repeated to me, "I knew that the field was all slippery and whatever, but I never slowed down or nothing."_

" _It's fine, dude." I smiled at you, "It ain't nothing serious. You were playing tough defense; that's what your supposed to do, right?"_

" _I'm supposed to steal the ball from you, not steal your walking ability." you replied, "I should've been more careful."_

" _Lan!" I heard your coach call for you, "Come back on over here! He's alright! He's taken care of!" You gave me one final look before trotting back across the field to your bench. You paid closer attention to the field, avoiding all of the obvious mud puddles._

" _What a great kid..." I overheard Coach say to the referee, "You ain't never see another kid like that for another ten years, I promise you; he overstays his welcome sometimes, though..."_

"I don't deserve a friend like you..." Tory mumbled. He was broken, destroyed.

"What?" Lan asked, confused.

"I— I don't hate you... How could I hate you?" Tory continued. He looked at Lan one final time before turning and beginning to run away, notebook in hand, "I hate myself..."

"Tory?" He heard Lan shout from behind, "Tory!?"

* * *

Tory was wandering through the streets, trying to occupy himself from his encounter with Lan. His heart wasn't able to handle something of that sort. It had torn; the fracture that formed all those years ago reopened, and it hurt more than ever. His mind was clouded and foggy. He couldn't think of anything else. The hatred he had buried of himself had been resurrected, and there was nothing stopping it.

As he was fumbling through the streets, he came across a peculiar book store. Displayed in the glass window was a yellow-orange novel that shined in the sunlight. The alliterate title encapsulated him, stealing his eyesight: "Some Sunday's Summer's Steppings." He stood there, staring at its cover, woefully aware of its implications. He wanted to leave, he wanted to runaway from this place; yet, his legs rebelled his commands...

 _"Are you lost?" you asked me, smiling._

 _"Um... N—no, no." I stuttered, stupidly, "J—just making my way through..."_

 _"I apologize," you replied, "You just seemed a little oblivious to me."_

 _"O—oh, I'm, I'm sorry about that." I said, "I didn't mean to be so... oblivious."_

 _"Being distracted isn't always a pejorative," You giggled, "My father always told me that if you're distracted, you're thinking."_

 _"Then... then I must think an awful lot." I replied, instinctively. You chuckled at my response before turning back to the book in your hand. I wanted to walk away. Our conversation was over, but my legs did not move. Still, I stood there... oblivious, but not in a pejorative way, fighting with myself. As if I was possessed by something else, my mouth opened:_

 _"Wha—what book are you reading?" I asked. You looked to me with a somewhat surprised face, before turning the book to its cover._

 _"'_ Some Sunday's Summer's Steppings _.'" you said, smiling, "It was written by a Jennifer Raika. Are you familiar with her?"_

 _"I—I've heard her name... I think." I lied, "But I never read her books."_

 _"Well, this book is about a woman named Sunday who takes dance lessons in the summer." you explained to me, "She meets a guy and they fall in love, of course."_

 _"Sounds kind of cheesy." I said. You chuckled at me._

 _"It's a chick-flick in book form, basically." you replied, "But that's what Raika is known for, her cute, wholesome romances."_

 _"Wholesome?" I asked, "They release these things in parts, now?"_

 _"No, no...!" You laughed, your hand instinctively rising to cover your mouth, "I mean, like... good-feeling. It makes you feel nice and happy."_

 _"Oh!" I said, "Yeah—yeah! Of course... right..." You giggled at me._

 _"Want to join me?" you asked, pointing your hand to the empty space next to you._

 _"Oh! I—I couldn't..." I excused, "I'm not smart enough. I'll... I would just slow you down."_

 _"What?" you flabbergasted, "Anyone with a brain can read. You don't need to be overly 'smart' or anything like that."_

 _"Well... I have a brain, right?" I said, walking and sitting next to you underneath the tree, "I guess I could join you."_

 _"That's the spirit!" you encouraged, "You have a name?"_

 _"People tend to call me 'Tory'." I answered._

 _"With an 'i' or 'y'?" you asked._

 _"'Y'. The_ best _way to spell 'Tory'." I joked, "What about you? What's your name?..."_

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Tory struggled, for he couldn't even say it. Numb, he once was; numb, he is no more. The name itself still preserved power that scorched his very soul. He felt tears begin to fill his eyes. His anger began to rise. The pain he felt intensified.

"I should feel happy for you..." he mumbled, turning from the window, "I should feel joyous for you..." He continued down the street.

"But I don't..." he confessed, "Why? Why do I not feel glad for you?" Passing building after building, Tory sustained his persistent retreat.

"What friend am I?" he asked, "What friend am I?!" The blackness of the abyss began to emanate from his heart. Tory's breath quickened as it started to affect his lungs.

"You deserve someone better..." he spoke, "For I should have never stopped for you. You should have never invited such a failure to be with you..." His vision blurred as it spread to his head. It was consuming him. It was corrupting him. Soon, it would dominate him.

He came across a soccer field. Empty, it was. The white lines defining its shape were old and slowly fading away. The grass was overgrown and filled with weeds. The goal posts had their nets removed. The only thing left were two old wood benches sitting across each other on opposite sides of the field. Reaching the first of its benches, Tory sat down on its old wooden top.

"How could I ever think of such a thing..." he said, looking to the indent in the grass where the stands used to be, "Why would you cheer for such a... for such a pissant!?" He turned his attention to the notebook. His hands were shaking, as it extended to his arms.

"They would be so much happier without me..." he said, "They _will_ be so much happier without me..." He raised his head to the middle of the field. He sat there, silently, not knowing what to do. But, the tears in his eyes welled too greatly, and few began to fall down his face. His nose began to sniffle, and soon he could no longer control his emotions. He cried.

"I'm sorry..." he cooed and cooed, "I'm so sorry..."

"I just want to be with you again..." he confessed, "I just want to be happy with you guys again..."

"You were my best friends..." He attempted to stand, but it had already contaminated his legs. They buckled under his weight, and he collapsed to his knees.

"Absolve me!" he whined, "Absolve me, god dammit!" He threw his hands to the ground. His notebook fell to his side. He kneeled there, idle, panting as tears uncontrollably fell from his eyes. His chest tightened and tightened; it became almost unbearable as it spread to his back. He felt his arms become more and more numb as a tingling sensation washed over them. His ears were ringing, and his mouth was dry.

"Tory?" yet another voice called, "Tory are you okay?!" The voice sent a sting throughout his body, causing him to release a small gasp. He knew who the voice was. It was only a matter of time before she arrived. It was only a matter of time before she, as well, was dragged back into his pity. He felt her presence beside him.

"I—I... I don't..." Tory gasped, "Hate—... hate y—you..." His vision transformed from blurriness to blackness, and his hearing nulled. He collapsed into the tall grass.

* * *

As he awoke he found himself in a hospital room. Next to him were multiple monitors evaluating, surely, his vitals and other necessary measurements. An IV was connected to his arm. He looked to his left and saw a nurse fumbling around near a sink. He felt weak, and his head still throbbed slightly like before. Yet, the pain he was feeling previously was gone (or at least reduced). The sensation of his arms were restored, and the tightness in his chest was gone. He turned his head to the right of the room. Some posters hung on the wall, and a chair and couch were placed near the window. The door to his room was open, and he could hear movement and other activities in the hallway.

"I'm glad to see you awake." Tory turned his head to face the nurse, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm—I feel fine." Tory answered, "How did I end up here?"

"That's quite the story." the nurse replied, "A friend of yours found you collapsed in the middle of a soccer field. She called the paramedics, and, as they arrived and brought you into the ambulance, they discovered you were experiencing a heart attack. But you're fine now. You're safe here at the hospital."

"A... heart attack?" Tory asked, "I had a heart attack?"

"Unfortunately..." the nurse answered, "Somebody your age should never experience a heart attack, which makes your case very special." He slowly began to remember what transpired before his collapse. Meeting Lan in the park, Lan's realization, his running away, the book in the window, the old soccer field, the pain in his chest; it all came back to him.

"Are you taking any medications?" the nurse asked.

"Um... no." Tory replied, "I don't take any medications."

"Okay..." the nurse wrote down Tory's answer, "Do you take or have taken any illegal substances recently?"

"No—no." Tory reassured, "I don't do drugs..."

"That's what I thought." then nurse commented, writing his other answer down as well, "You seem like a good kid..." The nurse reached and retrieved the sphygmomanometer hanging on the side of the bed. Wrapping it around Tory's left arm, she took his blood pressure.

"You're blood pressure is perfectly normal..." then nurse thought aloud, "And all of your other vitals are perfectly normal..." She glanced at the monitor.

"You haven't shown any issues since the EMT's admitted you with aspirin..." she explained, noting some other things on the clipboard in front of her. She began to move around the room for a few moments, writing down a few things on two other pieces of paper.

"So I heard you used to play soccer." the nurse said as she began some miscellaneous chore.

"Well, I still do, technically." he answered, "I volunteer for the youth league and help them with practice and stuff."

"You're kidding?" the nurse agaped, "My son plays for that league— wait! That's where I've seen your face before! I see you every Friday when I drop my son off at practice!"

"It's a small world..." he smiled.

"Oh! The kids just love you there. They always spoke of a Tory, but I never thought they were speaking of you." the nurse confessed, "We'll get you back on your feet and back on the field in no time." There was a quick moment of silence.

"Who... Who told you that I played soccer?" Tory asked.

"Your friend did—the one who found you, remember?" the nurse replied, "She was able to give us quite a bit of information about you. The poor thing was worried sick."

"Worried... about me...?" Tory mumbled.

"I thought she was going to have a heart attack as well. She's been sitting in the waiting room the last time I saw." the nurse shared, "Now, I know it's not proper protocol to allow visits at this time, but I'll go see is she's still there. I'm sure she'll feel much more relieved seeing you awake like this." The nurse left the room. Tory didn't know how to handle this scenario. Combination of the medicine he was given and his tiredness did not allow him to panic like he had done previously. Yet, a question did persist in his mind: what would she think of him?

He stared at the door. Everything became silent. Time seemed to stop. Each breath felt like hours, and his vision seemed to slow. Then, in the distance, he could hear footsteps. Louder they became as the footsteps arrived closer and closer. He held his breath. His eyes couldn't ignore the door. The time had finally come. Rounding the corner, the woman made herself known. Seeing him, a look of relief washed over her, and a smile so bright shined from her face.

"Hey..." she appeared lost for words.

"Mayl..." Tory spoke. Five years... He hasn't spoken her name in five years. A wave of relief shocked his system, and he felt a smile form on his face.

"How are you feeling?" she approached the side of his bed.

"Pretty well, all things considered." he chuckled.

"You had me scared to death!" Mayl chuckled back, "But I'm so happy to see you recovering..."

"Well, you know, sometimes you just have to have a heart attack." Tory joked, "It's like turning yourself on and off again. Refreshes the system." Mayl laughed, lifting her hand to cover her adorable laughter.

"I'm sure there are other ways of 'restarting yourself' that doesn't involve heart attack." Mayl continued, "Have you tried yoga?"

"Oh! That takes too much time." Tory laughed, "This is quick, easy, and you can do it at any time." Mayl laughed once more. They fell silent as they looked at each other.

"It's been a while since I've seen you, Tory." Mayl spoke, "I just never thought we'd meet again under these... circumstances..."

"I'm sorry that I worried you..." Tory replied, "I never expected this, either."

"But... you're okay now." Mayl said, "Right?"

"The nurse said that my vitals are normal." Tory explained, "So I'm assuming everything is alright."

"That's great to hear." Mayl smiled, "So, how have things been? I haven't seen you in what felt like years."

"Nothing much..." Tory answered, "How about you?"

"Same." she replied, "Just reading, mostly."

"You did always have a book in your hand..." he chuckled.

"Yeah..." Mayl replied. The two fell silent once more. As if possessed, like all those years ago, he opened his mouth:

"Are you and Lan still dating?" he asked.

"Yeah..." Mayl answered, "Five years."

"I'm happy for you." he smiled, but he felt his body reject his statement, "He's a great guy."

"He sure is a character." Mayl chuckled. Another moment of silence, disrupted as the nurse entered the room.

"I apologize to interrupt, but it I'm going to ask you to leave now, unfortunately." the nurse explained.

"Oh, that's no issue." Mayl replied, "Goodbye, Tory. I'll see you later. I hope you get better!" Mayl smiled at him.

"Bye... Mayl..." he said.

"Don't you worry about him." the nurse spoke to Mayl, "He's in good hands, and he'll be home in a day or so." Mayl made a final goodbye and left the room.

"As for you, Tory," the nurse directed her attention, "I'm sure you're extremely tired because of the medicine. I'm going to give you some time to sleep, catch up on some rest. I'll be back later to see how you're doing." Tory nodded in acknowledgement, and the nurse left the room. He was alone, now, with only his thoughts. At this moment, something dawned on him: Where was his notebook? Surely, he thought, it was stranded on the old soccer field where he collapsed. He smiled slightly to himself. That was probably for the best.

* * *

Two days have passed since Tory was released from the hospital. He was sent home with medication for his heart and instructions to call for emergency services if he felt any symptoms of a heart attack. He felt better, and the pain that plagued him previously seemed to have gone. He was happy once again. Yet, he heard a knock on the door. A visitor? Who could it be?

"Hey, Tory." Mayl greeted him as he opened the door.

"Mayl?" Tory was surprised, "Wha—what brings you here?" He noticed she was wearing a satchel over her shoulder.

"I heard that you were released from the hospital..." Mayl explained, "I wanted to come see how you were doing."

"Oh... Great—I'm doing great!" Tory replied. He stood in the doorway for a moment. Realizing his silence, he retreated from the door and invited Mayl inside. She thanked him as she entered the home. He led her a few feet into the house, into the living room, where they again stood in a moment of silence.

"Um... the doctor prescribed to me some medicine to help with my blood circulation." he took hold of a pill bottle that was placed on the coffee table next to them and showed it to Mayl, "It feels to me like it's working."

"That's good." Mayl smiled, "I hope it prevents you from 'reseting yourself', as you phrased. I would hate to see you like that again."

"I don't think I'll be doing that anytime soon." Tory replied, "I already enrolled in a four o'clock yoga class for this afternoon." They both laughed.

"I have also come to return something in which I believe is yours." she said as she opened the satchel at her side. She reached inside and pulled from it the notebook that Tory had dropped in the field.

"Oh." Tory was slightly petrified to see it in Mayl's hands, "This..."

"I meant to return it to you when I first visited you," she explained, "But I forgot it in my bag in the waiting room, and I didn't realize that I forgot to give it to you until after I left the hospital."

"Do not worry yourself about that." Tory replied, "I thank you for returning this to me." He held the notebook in his hands as another moment of silence dominated their conversation.

"Tory," she started, the emotion on her face changed slightly, "I... I just want you to know that I do no think lowly of you." He was taken aback at her words. What would cause her to confess something like this to him? He looked down to what he held in his hands and returned his gaze to her.

"You read it," Tory asked, "Didn't you?"

"After Lan described to me his encounter with you, curiosity got the best of me..." she confessed, "I was only concerned about you, Tory." He looked to the ground and walked a few steps away from her, placing the notebook on the coffee table.

"Those words were never meant for you to read." he explained, "I'm sorry... You must have cringed, I'm sure."

"I thought no such thing." Mayl objected, "I found it empathetical."

"Empathetcal?" Tory scoffed, "You can look at me? Look at what I wrote? And think 'empathetical'? Surely, the word in which you meant to say was 'pathetical'."

"Do not think so harshly of yourself, Tory." Mayl tried to calm.

"For how can you think that?" he continued to ask, "Me? The idiot, jealous fool? Envious of the man who would have given you up for the pitiful emotions of I?"

"Tory!" she scolded, "You must stop thinking such thoughts!"

"What friend am I?" he inquired, "What happiness do I feel for you? For Lan? I feel nothing! Nothing but emptiness and covetousness, and I hate it!" Mayl walked to Tory and grabbed him by his shoulders.

"But you are a friend!" she exclaimed, "You are a friend, and a great friend at that! Do you not know how confused Lan and I were when you deserted us those years ago? You leaving the team, you not coming to the park, we were immensely confused as to why. We missed you, Tory. I missed you. Who else would I read with? Talk with about books and literatures and themes and symbolisms? Lan was never the reader like you. And the improvement that you experienced! Have you read your ode? The vocabulary used is bright and colorful, and, yes, Tory, you speak with the pretentiousness and prestige as I, but you have overcome my skill. For I do not consider myself smart, but you have actual talent. I would never be able to write like you. I find your piece empathetical because I was in a position similar to yours. I adored both you and Lan, and I rued the day when I may have to choose between one or the other. For whom would I choose? My choice is obvious, but it is not simple. He was the first to ask, yes; and, our childhood friendship contained influence on me, but that does not mean you were instantly negated. What you feel is normal. Jealousy and envy are normal! But you must not let it dominate you. You must move on!"

"That I fear I cannot." Tory replied, "Oh! Mayl, for I have tried for five years to escape this blackness that dominates my heart, but I fear I may never win."

"But you can!" she assured, "For Lan and I are with you. We do not hate you. We want to help you. I do not want to see you deprived as you were those days ago. I do not want to see you suffer anymore than you already have. I can feel your pain in your words. I can bear your weight with each paragraph, with each sentence, with each syllable from your pen. You must win!"

"But my heart still yearns for you..." Tory confessed, "How will I overcome such powerful forces?"

"It is okay to love others." Mayl said, "Even love those that may... seem... unrequited."

"For a friendship with you is a blessing in itself, correct?" Tory asked.

"No, Tory..." Mayl answered, "You are the blessing."

"You treat me with too much kindness..." he chuckled.

"What are friends for?" She smiled at him. She wrapped her arms around him and embraced him. Nervous was he but soon he, too, wrapped his arms around her, returning the embrace.

"I wish you and Lan happiness." he said.

"I wish you happiness as well, Tory." she replied, releasing her grasp, "And remember: For I am with you."

"I will." he smiled.

"Well... I must leave. I have other commitments I must see through." she turned and began walking to the door.

"Mayl?" he called to her.

"Yes?" she replied, turning towards him.

"May you inform Lan that I am doing well?" he implored.

"Most certainly." she returned a smile to him. They both shared their goodbyes and Mayl left. Sitting down on the couch, exhausted from the exchange, he reached and grabbed hold of the notebook he placed. Opening to its first page, he decided to re-read through his penmanship. Content, he was; content, he will be.

* * *

 _I returned, the next day, to that same trail to that same walnut tree to a that same woman. Seated next to her was the same man whom I so respected, his same arm surrounding her same shoulders and same eyes whose sight focused more on the same her than the different book she held in her same hands. As you looked from your novel, and saw me approach, you smiled and waved with such enthusiasm and welcomed me under your tree. You both were so excited to see me again, for, with your help, I have conquered the pain that plagued me for these many years. Gone was my jealousy, replaced, was my envy, with trust and understanding. I was free from the purgings of my soul, free from the resurrection of my pity and self-hate. Gone were my sorrows, invited were my life's pleasures. I was now able to enjoy my friendship. I was now able to enjoy my friends. For, after so many years, I finally absolved myself._

 _Ode to my broken heart?_

 _Nay... Not anymore._

 _For this is now another ode, an_

 _Ode to my loving friend._


	3. Post Game

" _Sweet beauty..."_

" _You attempt to swoon me with such cliché semantics?"_

" _Speaking such truths is considered semantics?"_

" _Yes... but being cheesy is never wrong."_

" _Then I shall switch tactics. You are a hideous being, and your face is an abomination to my senses."_

" _It appears I have blessed myself with the presence of a gentleman."_

" _Have I successfully swooned you?"_

" _Give more compliments of thus, and I may consider such."_

* * *

"Hey, Lan!" Mayl said as she approached Tory, who was sitting on the grassy floor underneath their walnut tree with a notebook in his lap.

"Hey, Mayl!" Tory replied, smiling as he greeted his friend.

"You doing fine?" Mayl smiled back.

"I'm doing well." Tory replied.

"Just sitting here under the pine?" Mayl asked.

"Just sitting here in the sunshine." Tory said, "What brings you here this very day?"

"To keep this guy, here, at bay." Mayl replied.

"If you guys could stop flirting in rhyme, that would be great." Lan spoke following shortly behind Mayl.

"Feeling left out, Lan?" Mayl asked.

"You know I can't rhyme like that." Lan said, "Honestly, I don't even know what a _rhyme_ is."

"You should read more, Lan." Tory proposed, "Maybe then you'll be able to play along with us."

"Believe me," Lan commented, sitting next to Tory underneath the tree, "This lady has been trying to get me to read for years. Still hasn't worked."

"None of the books I show him interest him." Mayl explained, still standing.

"Well, you have to start somewhere, Lan." Tory said, "How about we try some children's books!"

"That would be wonderful! They're short, visual, and contain words that Lan can actually understand!" Mayl and Tory began to laugh together.

"You know, I'm starting to think that you guys are just teasing me..." Lan pretended to pout.

"You know we're just playing around." Mayl plopped down next to Lan, running her hand through his hair. Lan smiled as he wrapped his arm around her.

"How's soccer treating you?" Tory asked.

"We won our last game, which was a real surprise." Lan explained, "We were tenth in the league going against the third place seat."

"It was a close game, too." Mayl said, "It came down to the last five minutes of the second half. Lan managed to clutch a goal that put them ahead by one."

"Isn't that such a Lan thing to do?" Tory laughed, "Making everyone wait until the end of the game before you do something useful." Mayl and Lan joined him.

"I just have to warm up, is all." Lan smiled, "There's a reason why they keep me on the team."

"They can't afford for you to leave the team." Mayl said.

"Why so?" Tory asked.

"We've sort of been having a mass exodus of players recently." Lan explained, "Many of the people who've been on the team for years are leaving, and I'm the only one left with seniority enough to captain the team."

"You sound as though you're not up to the responsibility." Tory said.

"No, I like being captain and all—helping the new players develop their skill—but it's always a little upsetting when your friend leaves the team, right?"

"I feel as though I am being referenced." Tory said.

"Somewhat, but not in a bad way." Lan said, "It actually started with you, those years back, then people just began dropping out year after year."

"I never went and watched any of your games," Tory said, "So I really don't know who is and isn't on the team anymore."

"You weren't really on our team for that long, right?" Lan asked, "You were only with us for two seasons or so."

"Yeah. Only two seasons." Tory said.

"Man... it felt like you were on the team forever." Lan said, "When you left, it really caught us off guard."

"Yeah..." Tory shyly, almost in embarrassment, replied, "Sorry about that..."

"But, you're doing okay now, right?" Lan asked, "That thing you were dealing with is taken care of, right?"

"Come now, Lan." Mayl interrupted, "That is none of your concern."

"What?" Lan asked, "I'm just making sure everything is okay. I'm not being mean or anything."

"It's fine, Mayl." Tory said, "I don't mind. I'm doing well, now, Lan. Thanks."

"That means you can rejoin the team, right?" Lan proposed, "You know, if you rejoined the team, then maybe everyone else might rejoin, too. It would be like an italian renaissance but for our soccer team!"

"Lan..." Mayl chuckled.

"I'll think about it, but..." Tory said, "I don't think I have it in me anymore. It's been five years, Lan."

"Talent like yours doesn't just diminish over time. It's natural. It's an instinct. It's like a predator!" Lan stretch his fingers like claws for emphasis.

"Lan, I think you're losing it..." Mayl laughed.

"No! I'm serious! People would literally cower in fear when Tory took the field!" Lan explained to Mayl, "Blood would be drawn! Meat would be torn from bone!"

"The last time I checked, Lan," Mayl replied, "You were the only one who ever drew blood on the field. And that blood was from Tory."

"Hey, even the predator needs... ugh... a predator." Lan said.

"And now that predator volunteers for the Youth League." Tory said, "And he's pretty happy there."

"The predator has been neutered." Lan said, "And, subconsciously, wants to ravage the field once again."

"This is the most ridiculous conversation I have heard in a while." Mayl commented.

"This is how most of my and Tory's conversations go." Lan said.

"You won't understand, Mayl." Tory said.

"Whatever..." Mayl rolled her eyes.

"Does anyone have the time?" Lan asked, "I need to leave for practice soon."

"You have a P.E.T, right?" Mayl said, "Can't you check the time yourself?"

"Uh-oh..." Tory raised his eyebrows to Lan.

"I ticked off the lady..." Lan raised his eyebrows back.

"I am not ticked off." Mayl said.

"I know you're not." Lan wrapped his arm around her and rubbed her shoulder, "We're just teasing." Mayl formed a small smile on her face as she reached into her pocket and retrieved her P.E.T.

"Fifteen minutes until five." She replied.

"What? I need to go!" Lan said as he quickly stood on his feet, "Talk to you both later!" Turning, Lan began to jog and eventually sprint down the path leading to the far end of the park, towards the soccer field his team practiced on, leaving only Tory and Mayl to their own devices.

"What an exit." Tory spoke.

"Yet it's so distinctly Lan, you know?" Mayl replied. The two fell into a silence. It has been a couple months since Tory and Mayl have been alone like this—-a couple months since they re-established their friendship.

"So... writing once more underneath the walnut tree?" Mayl asked as she peered at the notebook lying on the grass beside him.

"Writing once more but only for me." Tory replied, smiling, as he took hold of the notebook.

"Writing a story about kings and queens?" Mayl smiled back.

"Nope. Writing a story with only a simple scene." Tory explained.

"And what partakes in this particular scene?" Mayl asked.

"Nothing particularly keen..." Tory said.

"Can I read it?" Mayl asked, breaking the rhyme.

"It's only eight lines." Tory said, "It's nothing, really—just some bad writing."

"There is no such thing as 'bad writing'." Mayl said, "That's what my father always says."

"Hmm..." Tory eyed the notebook, "I guess you're right..."

"Yes!" Mayl smiled as she scooched her way beside Tory, closing the gap that Lan created between them. Tory handed her the notebook and she quickly read the eight lines.

"I will be honest with you, Tory," Mayl began, "I don't think I ever saw something like this before."

"What do you mean?" Tory asked.

"The use of insults rather than cheesy compliments to swoon someone." Mayl said, "I would develop this more."

"Thanks." Tory replied, receiving the notebook back from Mayl, "I've actually been having some writer's block recently."

"What's going on?" Mayl asked.

"I'll get motivated to write, right?" Tory explained, "And I'll get my notebook and whatever and walk down here to the park, but once I sit down, my mind goes blank and I lose that motivation."

"Have you just tried, then, writing your thoughts down?" Mayl implored, "I'm not talking about fully flushing out your ideas, just writing whatever you're thinking down and coming back to revise them later."

"I always struggled with revising my work." Tory said, "It just doesn't feel right writing something down and leaving it be."

"But, Tory, no one can write something perfect the first time." Mayl explained, "Even the great writers of old revised their work."

"True..." Tory said.

"Plus, you revised before." Mayl said, "The ode you wrote had many copy edits strewn about and sections scribbled out.

"True again," Tory said, "But I was motivated then. Of course, the source of that motivation was different..."

"Tell you what," Mayl proposed, "How about we get some ice cream from the truck near the south side of the park and talk more about this? Maybe that will give you some inspiration and motivation to write."

"You think that'll help?" Tory asked.

"Hey, if it doesn't, then at least you get ice cream out of it." Mayl smiled.

"Deal." Tory smiled back, and the two stood from under their tree and began walking to their ice cream destination.

* * *

"Two strawberry scoops, please." Mayl asked the ice cream man. Nodding his head, he turned back into his vehicle, grabbed a small plastic container and napkin, and plopped two strawberry scoops into it. Exchanging the ice cream with a couple dollar bills, Mayl turned and walked to the small bench located near the truck. Tory waited for her there, his three scoops of chocolate ice cream waiting with him.

"Strawberry?" Tory asked, taking another bite from his chocolate paradise.

"Yeah. I always get strawberry." Mayl replied, "Didn't you know that?"

"Probably." Tory said, "How's it taste?"

"I didn't even take a bite from it yet." Mayl said, "I like to wait for my ice cream to melt a little bit."

"You're one of _those_ people? Despicable..." Tory took another large bite from his ice cream, "Augh!..."

"See!" Mayl laughed at Tory's brain freeze, "That's why you have to let it warm up a little."

"I'll admit," Tory spoke, rubbing his head, "I felt some karma in that brain freeze." The two sat quite for another moment.

"How's the youth league going?" Mayl asked.

"It's going great." Tory said, "The team is really coming together this year."

"I'm sure with the help of 'the predator', any team can be whipped into shape, huh?" Mayl chuckled.

"Lan's just speaking crazy now." Tory said, "He's always over exaggerating the way I play."

"Isn't that what Lan always does?" Mayl asked, "Over exaggerate things?"

"Yeah..." Tory chuckled, "He really wants me back on that team..."

"What do you think about it?" Mayl asked.

"Think about what?" Tory returned.

"About joining the team." Mayl clarified, "What do you think about it?"

"I don't know..." Tory said, "I left the team for a reason."  
"And that reason is taken care of, no?" Mayl said.

"Well, yeah..." Tory said, "But it's been five years. Things change, you know?"

"Things do change," Mayl agreed, "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"It seems to me that Lan thinks me re-joining the team is going to somehow magically bring back the olden days." Tory said, "And that's not going to happen. It's just not going to be the same." Mayl waited for Tory to finish.

"Lan has this idealized view that seems very naïve to me." Tory continued, "I... I don't even know if I would like it."

"What about it do you think you won't like?" Mayl asked.

"Just being back in the game." Tory answered, "The sense of competition. Being on the youth league for so long, I've grown to love the fact that I don't have to worry about whether we win or lose. Everybody is happy. Everybody is so cheery after the game is done... Plus, I don't know how Lan would react if I told him no..."

"Don't worry about that." Mayl said, "Lan's an understanding person. If you tell him you don't want to rejoin the team, he'll understand."

"I feel as though he would be crushed." Tory replied.

"Like I said, don't worry about that." Mayl said, "Do what _you_ want to do, not what you think he wants you to do."

"Thanks, Mayl." Tory said, "I appreciate the help."

"Anytime, Tory." Mayl smiled, "We're friends? Remember? That's what we do."

"Yeah..." Tory felt a light, fluffy feeling grow within him. Another moment of silence ensued.

"Well, what about you?" Tory asked, "What's going on with you?"

"Me?" Mayl asked, pointing to herself.

"Is there another red-head in the vicinity?" Tory asked, pretending to look around themselves. Mayl began to laugh and playfully shove Tory on his shoulder.

"We are not here to talk about me." Mayl said, "We are here to talk about you and your writer's block."

"What?" Tory replied, "We aren't allowed to talk about you even a little bit?"

"Maybe later." Mayl chuckled.

"I'm starting to think you're hiding something from me..." Tory pretended to put on a serious thinking face, "You've been acting very suspicious lately, you know that?"

"How about we start walking?" Mayl said as she stood from the bench.

"Aha!" Tory celebrated, "This is a poor type of distraction, Mayl. You can't hide anything from me!"

"Please, Tory," Mayl replied as they began to walk together, "What could I possibly be hiding from you?"

"Let me guess..." Tory began to ponder as he looked to the sky, "It's the hair, isn't it? The red hair is starting to get to you."

"What?" Mayl asked, "You're starting to make as much sense as Lan."

"So it's not the red hair?" Tory asked.

"No!" Mayl laughed, "I actually love my red hair."

"Well... it fits you're... ugh..." Tory pretended to stutter, "Personality?"

"Really? You had that long to come up with a response and the best you can do is 'personality'?" Mayl smiled.

"It's hard for me to lie, you know?" Tory smiled.

"You little—!" Mayl began to chase Tory. Both laughing, they ran into the grass beside the path. Tory, the soccer player, was easily able to juke Mayl left or right and easily evade her pursuits.

"Come, Mayl," Tory taunted, "You expect to catch me with those moves?" Hubris gets the best of everyone. Lacking focus for only a moment, Mayl was able to compromise Tory. However, as Tory made an unexpected left turn to escape his entrapment, Mayl's leg stood in his way, causing him to trip and collapse to the floor. Unfortunately, collapsing with him, was his container of chocolate ice scream, which stained not only the grass below, but also his face and shirt.

"Oh!" Mayl stopped, "I'm so sorry, Tory! I didn't mean to trip you like that!"

"That's all right." Tory said, picking himself up from the ground, "I only had a scoop or so left of ice cream."

"I'm more concerned about you than the ice cream..." Mayl said, "Here." Tory took the napkin that Mayl offered and began to wipe some chocolate from his face. Folding the napkin in half, he began to rub the little chocolate he could from his shirt.

"Don't do that." Mayl said, "Dab, not rub."

"What?" Tory asked, "Dab?"

"Dab your shirt. Don't rub it." Mayl explained, "That's just going to stain the shirt even more."

"Pardon your pardon?" Tory asked again.

"Here," Mayl sighed as she grabbed the napkin from Tory's hand, "This." She began to dab the chocolate stain off Tory's shirt.

"Oh... that's what you meant..." Tory felt felt that warm, cuddly feeling grow larger.

"I can buy you another ice cream if you would like." Mayl proposed, letting go of Tory's shirt.

"Don't worry about it." Tory assured, "Like I said, I only had a scoop left." The two walked for a moment over to a trash can and disposed of the compromised ice cream and dirty napkin. Mayl, of course, still enjoyed her two strawberry scoops.

"That's what happens when you mess with me, Tory." Mayl began to tease, "Some call me a 'The Predator' too, you know."

"Kick a man while he's down after apologies have been granted..." Tory said as they both continued walking, "You really are a predator."

"Devilishly..." Mayl laughed.

"The red hair should've tipped me off." Tory replied.

"Oh... you really want to talk about this again?" Mayl said.

"I don't have any ice cream to hold me back this time." Tory smiled.

"Your face and shirt say otherwise." Mayl said.

"These are nothing but a war wound." Tory said, "A symbol of my bravery and experience. I went up against the true predator and lived to tell the tale."

"Whatever..." Mayl laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Plus, I can actually run now." Tory said.

"Wh—?" But, before she could finish, Tory quickly scattered Mayl's neatly brushed hair with his hand and began to run off down the trail.

"You really are a little—" Mayl scolded a final time before chasing him down the path.

* * *

Tory, laughing uncontrollably as he continued to run away, effortlessly, from the red-head, made his way back to their same tree. Hiding behind the trunk, Tory began to walk in circles as Mayl, standing behind the trunk, failed to grab him. Tory was just too quick, and the trunk too large. Plus, she only had one hand free, the other was still handling her ice cream. Finally, Mayl just sat under the tree, laying her back onto the tree trunk.

"Admitting defeat?" Tory asked, carefully poking his head from behind the tree.

"I never said such a thing..." Mayl said. Tory could see her breathing a little heavier than normal.

"How about we postpone this battle for a different time?" Tory asked.

"I'll accept that proposal." Mayl said.

"Cool." Tory said, taking a seat next to her. A notification sounded from Mayl's P.E.T. Digging it out of her pocket, she looked at the screen. A text had arrived.

"I'm nosy." Tory said, looking at Mayl.

"It's just Lan." Mayl said, "He's done with practice but he's going home right away."

"What?" Tory said, "Tell him to stop being a baby and come hang out with us some more."

"'Tory said stop being a baby and come hang out with us some more.'" Mayl spoke aloud as she typed her text.

"We can go get ice cream." Tory said.

"Tory, we just got back from getting ice cream." Mayl said.

"I know. But Lan didn't get any and you owe me three scoops of chocolate." Tory formed a devilish grin on his face.

"What? You said we were good!" Mayl said. Tory began to laugh maniacally. Mayl rolled her eyes as she checked her P.E.T for the text she just recieved.

"Lan says he's really tired and wants to go home and sleep." Mayl said.

"Tell him sleep is for the weak." Tory said.

"'Tory said sleep is for the'—wait," Mayl stopped, "I'm not going to be some mailwoman. You can text him."

"Okay." Tory said, "Give me your P.E.T."

"No!" Mayl said, "On _your_ P.E.T!"

"What?" Tory said, "It's not as fun messing with Lan if its on my P.E.T."

"Well, you know, I'm sorry about that." Mayl said.

"That's all right. The man's probably tired and needs his sleep." Tory said, "You should stop texting him. You're probably disturbing him, you know?"

"Tory, you are a show. You know that?" Mayl chuckled, "The way you can just flip on a dime, sometimes, really shocks me."

"Thanks!" Tory smiled at her.

"You goof..." She chuckled back and playfully pushed his shoulder again.

"Come now." Mayl began, "Let's finally begin to talk about your writing."

"I thought that's what the ice cream was for." Tory said, "And we did zero talking."

"People get distracted." Mayl said, "Come on. Talk to me."

"About what? I said everything I needed to say, right?" Tory asked.

"No. Talk to me about your ideas." Mayl said, "What do you like to write about?"

"Romances." Tory said, "I really like romances. Not, like, dramatic romances or anything like that. Just... simple love stories. Boy meets girl, they fall in love, and they live happily-ever-after."

"That explains what I read earlier." Mayl said.

"Their just so... _wholesome_ , you know?" Tory smiled at her, "Something you can read and just be _oblivious_..."

"Are you referencing...?" Mayl asked.

"Maybe..." Tory replied.

"You know, Raika just came out with another book." Mayl said, "Maybe we both should buy a copy and read it together... like before."

"But we didn't have two books." Tory corrected, "You only had one, and I would sit next to you, just like this, and listen to you read."

"I know that, but wouldn't you want to read along?" Mayl asked.

"Nay. I want to listen to you read." Tory said, "You have an excellent reading voice."

"And we can talk about the themes and symbolisms and meanings of the book." Mayl responded.

"Of course, like we always used to do." Tory said, as he laid his head on Mayl's shoulder, "And I would fall asleep, just like this, because you would speak for far too long and I would slump over onto your shoulder."

"You liar!" Mayl laughed, yet she didn't push Tory's head away, "I never talked _that_ much."

"Suit yourself..." Tory said as he closed his eyes, "They were the best naps I took. Who knew a shoulder would be so good to sleep on. I mean, the shoulder has leaning and crying covered, but sleeping? This thing could do anything..." Mayl chuckled as she removed some small leaves that blew into Tory's hair.

"Speaking of the past, maybe you can rejoin the soccer team while we're at it." Mayl said.

"And then maybe everybody else will rejoin the team as well," Tory repeated, "And then we could have, like, an italian renaissance but for our soccer team!" Mayl laughed.

"I was thinking more so I could watch you on the field." Mayl said, "I never did get to see you play..."

"You weren't missing much," Tory said, "really."

"I don't know..." Mayl replied, "I never got to cheer for you. I never even saw you score on the opposing team."

"That's all right..." Tory said, "Maybe someday..." There was a moment of silence.

"Well... why not today?" Mayl asked.

"What?" Tory asked. Before being able to receive an answer, Mayl quickly stood up, knocking Tory's head from her shoulder, and stood in front of him.

"Here we are at the final minute of the second half." Mayl began to commentate, "The ACDC Raiders are tied with the CyberCity Cardinals two to two. The Raiders are attacking, and if they're able to break the tie, their chances of winning skyrocket. However, if the Cardinals are able to defend their own, they extend the game thirty minutes, giving them the possibility of breaking the tie and ending this game."

"Mayl... what are you doing?" Tory asked, smiling, still sitting beneath the tree.

"We see the prized player, Tory Froid, number six, standing between the midfielders, ready to advance forward at a given chance." Mayl continued.

"Mayl, is this really necessary?" Tory asked, starting to feel a little embarrassed,

"Number eight of the Raiders passes the ball to number nine and they work their way down field, meeting minor resistance from the Cardinals' centre midfielders as they pass the ball back and forth." Mayl continued, "But, what's this? Number six of the Raiders is _sitting_ on the field! The ball's in play! The famous striker, known for his ferocity, appears to have his flame dowsed!"

"Okay... okay..." Tory smiled, standing.

"It would appear that number six was only giving himself a handicap." Mayl said, "The ego and confidence this player oozes can be felt even here, deep in the stands." Tory jogged forward a couple feet or so and took an offensive stance, awaiting further commentary from Mayl.

"Number five passes the ball to number one, bypassing a Cardinal fielder." Mayl continued, "Number one is making a push forward! The Cardinals' centre backs are starting to see some play, now, as they begin to pursue the attackers. 45 seconds left!" Tory trotted forward, looking left and right as to simulate him taking account of his teammates.

"Number 10 of the Cardinals' stole the ball from the Raider's one and is beginning to push forward towards the Raider's goal!" Mayl surprised Tory with a steal. Quickly turning around, Tory went into defense mode, chasing the fictional player down the field.

"Number six is gaining pace!" Mayl said, "He's right behind him!" Tory ran in front of the player and began a one on one dual with him. Trying to dribble away, the fictional character managed to defend himself from Tory's aggressive attack.

"Number six of the Raiders managed to steal the ball from number 10 of the Cardinals." Tory, once again, began running down the field, dribbling the fictional ball between himself as he passed through, by, and around the fictional defense of the CyberCity cardinals, "This is amazing! Number six is blazing down the field as though the field itself is empty! 30 seconds left on the clock!" Tory continued further and further, passing the central circle, passing into the defensive zone, quickly arriving before the penalty box, facing the goalie himself.

"This goalie's tough, and he's ready for number six's attempt at winning the game." Mayl said, "What is he going to do?" Tory begins to juke back in forth, trying to fool the goalie into making a bad move, opening a path for a score.

"The ACDC Raiders are running out of time!" Mayl explained, "20 seconds left!" Still, Tory pandered back and forth, dodging the defenders coming from his behind.

"Number six needs to take a shot!" Mayl said, "10 seconds left!" Tory ditched right, running the width of the field, dragging the goalie to his right as he followed. Finally, Tork took a sharp left, ball rolling slightly in front of him.

"Five seconds left!" Mayl shouted, "It's do or die!" Tory rolled the ball slightly forward, reeled his leg back and shot the ball towards the goal. The goalie was too slow and the ball rammed into the back of the net.

"Goal!" Mayl began to shout, "The ACDC Raiders win! The ACDC Raiders win!" Tory began taking victory laps, his hands raised towards the air as he celebrated his victory.

"The fans swamp the field!" Mayl said as she ran towards Tory. Taking him by surprise, Mayl wrapped her hands around him, hugging the victorious player. Almost losing balance, Tory spun in circles, hugging her as his feet made circles in the grass.

"How accurate was I?" Mayl whispered.

"Not that far off..." Tory whispered back, "Makes me miss it a little."

"This could be every game..." Mayl replied.

"And you would be there, cheering and shouting from the stands?" Tory asked.

"I would never miss a game..." Her voice trailed off as they both moved closer to each other. The faraway, fluffy, cuddly, wholesome excitement rattled throughout Tory's body. An existential bliss dominated his senses as he looked into her eyes.

"And then, after the game, we can return here and you can read to me?" Tory asked.

"And you can sleep on my shoulder," Mayl chuckled slightly, "And fall asleep in my arms."

"I can get used to that..." Tory said, "How about you?"

"I would love it." Mayl replied. The pair fell silent as they both continued to look into each other's eyes. Slowly, Mayl raised her head and the two kissed. The emotional bubble blowing within Tory popped. A climax of intensity and ecstasy shook the very ground they both stood upon. A paradise exploded in Tory's mind. This was the perfect moment.

"Mayl?" a voice called, "Tory?!" The two lovers seperated and looked to the origin of the voice.

"Lan?" Mayl said.

"I—You—" Lan stuttered, "How could you—? Tory?! You were my best friend!"

"Lan—!" Mayl spoke.

"Forget it!" he shouted, "I should have known. After everything that happened? I should have known! I'm a fool! An absolute arrogant, stupid fool for thinking... for thinking—! Ugh!" He turned and began to walk away from them.

"Lan, wait!" Tory said, beginning to walk after him.

"No!" He shouted, turning to face them a final time, "Clearly you two have a thing for each other. But, next time, at least have the dignity and integrity to tell me first before you go off sleeping with each other!" As Lan walked away, Tory could tell a crevice formed in Lan's soul. It was his turn to feel this dilapidated pain. It was his turn to feel a broken heart.

But it wasn't the same. This was a backstab. Lan was just backstabbed by his own best friends. Betrayed be two people who should never do such a thing. To him, it was done. To him, it was over. This was it. The ultimate signal for their abandonment. They abandoned _him_. No respect in what they did. Not a single thread of respect! No communication, no sophistication, no generosity, no understanding! If they wanted to get together, then they should have told me! She should have ended it with me, not go and _cheat_ like the broad she is! Always flirting together, laughing and giggling to each other... How have I ever put up with this kind of crap?— What? Let bygones be bygones? Okay, then.

Bye! I'm gone!


	4. Monologue of the Brokenhearted

What? What?! What do you want? Can't you see I'm grieving?...

Your attempts to try and cheer me up are not going to help. You saw what happened to me. You had front row seats to my best friend's own betrayal. You think this is something that I can just walk away from? I wish I could walk away. I wish that I could run away from this terrible situation. I wish that I could forget about everything...

Think positively? Is this the best advice you can give? _Think positively?_ How could I think positively during a time like this? What is there to think positively about? The girl who I liked for almost my entire life has just cheated on me with the person I thought was my best friend. Where's the brighter side to this situation? Is a hidden camera crew going to reveal itself and explain to me that this is just all some type of elaborate prank? Please! Where is it? Where is this camera crew?...

Of course I'm angry. I'm furious. I'm pissed! I want to smash my hand through a wall. I want to throw this book through a window. I want to kick my bedroom door down. I want to smash my desk to pieces. I want to rip off my shirt, pants, socks. I want to yell and scream. I want to shout as loud as I can. I feel like a volcano. The anger slides through me like waves. It's almost like different heats of a sprint. It hits me. I get these uncontrollable urges. My muscles contract and my fists curl. I want to do something. Something violent. I want to hurt something. I want to hurt myself... I want to run a knife along my arm. I want to take a hammer to my hands and legs. I want to feel blood flow down my side...

No, I never cut myself before. I never had an urge to do it either. But this pain I feel... this is not normal pain. It's... it's... deep. It's personal. I can't help but feel that I've felt this same feeling before. Rejection? This seems like more than rejection. It's defensive, almost like I'm offended. Scared? Worried? Sad? All of the above? It's depressing. I want to say that it's... it's like when a family is setting the table and you ask them to not set a place for you. That's what it feels like...

Yeah... but then the anger stops. I breathe. I can think, and those feelings stop as well. I look at all the things around me, and I feel sad and depressed. I'm exhausted. I just want to collapse and... and... stop. Just stop being. I want to disappear. I want to vanish. Cease existing...

I can't help _but_ think this is all my fault, that I have no one else but me to blame. I knew of the situation. I knew of their little... thing, and I did nothing. I stood by and did absolutely nothing. I thought she was stronger then that. I assumed _both_ were stronger than that. That they both wouldn't hurt me like this. That they both wouldn't go off and kiss each other in a field—stabbing me in the back like the bastards they are!

I can't believe she did such a thing to me! Really? After all I had been through with her? This is how she repays me? My first date, my first handhold, my first kiss, my first lover... I spent _years_ , almost a _decade_ of my life trying to make her happy and joyful. I sacrificed so much for her. I took her places, I gave her gifts, I made sure to surprise her, be there whenever she needed me. I tried to make her happy. I treated her in the best way I could. But apparently that wasn't enough. Having literally all of me wasn't enough for her. She wanted more. She wanted _him_. And what is so great about him? He's messed up in the head! Are you serious? He stopped speaking to us for years because he had feelings for you. The guy had a heart attack because of it. He almost died because he couldn't deal with reality. Well I'm better than that! I don't need to run away for five years!...

True... he was such a great friend... And we had so much fun together. All the memories I had with him will probably stick with me forever. The time we spent after games, talking and laughing with each other. Us hanging out in the park. The amount of soccer we played together. How supportive he was when I spoke to him about her. He would provide me feedback on the plans I would have for her, and he was such an honest guy. Now that I think about it, I think many of my best moments with her were with his ideas. He was really the only person that I met who I truly considered a best friend. And... and he just ignored all of that! He ignored everything!

He knew that I felt so strongly for her. But yet he did what he did anyway. I can't believe it! The next time I see that guy... I... I...

Aaaaawwwww!

I just want to throw my fists at something. I want to break my window, my door, my bed. I want to rip the pages from my books. I want to stomp a hole into my floor. I want to punch a hole into my wall. Again and again and again! I want to feel my hand sting against cement. I want to feel my foot throb from pain. I want my bones to crack. I want my muscles to ache. I want my skin to scream. I want to feel something! Oh please! Please! Let me feel something! Anything!...

Oh, why do you care? You don't understand! You've never experienced anything like this before. I don't think anyone has. What makes you think you can tell me what to do or feel? My heart has been broken and shattered. Do I still even have a heart? A soul? I can't tell whether or not it was ripped from my chest. I try to feel for a pulse, but I can't find it. I can't find anything of who I once was!

I'm stuck in this body. I'm stuck with this empty shell... Why does everything seem so dark? I have my bedroom lights on. Here, let me turn on my desk lamp... That's not enough. That's not enough! I need more light. It's too dark in here. I can't see! Am I going blind? Is this blackness encapsulating only me? Can you see it? Is this happening to you as well?...

Where did you go? Why are you so silent now? Please! You can't leave me like this. I need you. I need someone to talk to. I need someone who will listen to me. I'm sorry for being rude to you earlier. I was mad, okay? But you saw what happened to me. Can you blame me? I'm ruined right now. I'm going through a lot and my emotions are all over the place.

Oh! Please! I'm begging you! Don't leave me! Don't leave and abandon me like they did! I don't know what I will do without you. The pain that I am feeling is too much for me to bear. It's eating away at me. I don't know how to deal with this. How do I cope with this?...

Fine! Be that way! Leave me in my time of need! I don't need you! I don't need any of you! That's all anybody has done for me. I try my best to do the most for everyone I know and care about. I sacrifice myself to make someone else's day better. And what do I get for it? What's the reward for my constant generosity? Betrayal. Rejection. Abandonment and desertion. Fine! Then forget it! I guess this world isn't for me. No one needs the love that I'm trying to give, and I'm certainly not receiving the same in return.

I'll leave. I'll check out. I'll say my final goodbyes and then they will see... They will see how much they truly needed me. But it will be too late! I'll be gone. They should have appreciated me when they had their chance. They don't deserve it. No one in my life deserves me. Yeah... That's right. No one deserves me. No one deserves what I have to give! Do you hear that? You don't deserve me! You don't deserve any of the love and gratitude I have!

I don't need you!

But... but I still love her. I still have so many emotions and feelings. I want to hold her at night. I want to kiss her sweet lips. I want to run my hands through that beautiful red hair of hers. I just want to hear her laugh. I want to see her warm smile just one more time...

I can't stand these emotions. I can't put up with them any longer. I want this to be done. I just want all the memories I had with them erased. I want to wake up tomorrow with this entire period of my life gone from my memory. In fact, when I wake up tomorrow, I want to be a completely new person with a completely new life. I just want all of this to be over...

Lan... you're forgetting... This can all be over. This can all be over tonight. This pain... gone, Lan... And you would never have to suffer like this again. _I_ can help you... _I_ can make all this better for you...

Remember, Lan, no one wants you... Can't you see? You're nothing but a pawn for these people. They use you... They abuse you... They exploit you... They lie straight to your face and smile. People are just out to get you. No one respects you... No one appreciates you... No one likes you... No one needs you... No one loves you...

No one wants you, Lan! And you sit there and do nothing, Lan! And for what, Lan!? Do you like being abused and exploited, Lan?! Do you like being used, Lan!? Lied to, Lan!? Do not just sit there dumbfounded at me! Answer me! Is this what you want!?

Lan, this world has long since turned its back on you. Long ago destiny decided that your fate would consist of nothing but misery, trategy, and heartbreak. But now... Lan... _I_ am giving you an opportunity to take control of your destiny...

Believe in me... You know that _I_ won't manipulate you. _I_ won't lie to you. _I_ would never hurt you, my scarred, lonely child. _I_ 'm here to help you. _I_ 'm the only one here to help you, and that's what _I_ 'm doing. That's what _I_ 'm trying to tell you. Trust me. _I_ 'm the only friend you have right now, and _I_ 'm telling you that this can all be over. This pain... this suffering... all you have to do is listen to me. This world is not good enough for you... The people do not deserve you... If you listen to me, I can take you to a new world. A new world where people won't betray you like this...

There you go, Lan... Now you're getting the idea. Do you see the window in front of you, Lan?... Yes?... Very good. This is the key to paradise, Lan. This is the portal to a better world. This is your escape... your chance to spit in destiny's face...

Lan, my lonely, scarred child... Why must you question me? Am _I_ not here to help you? Have _I_ not extended an olive branch for your emotional redemption?... The window that you see is six stories from the ground, Lan. All you need to do is take the step forward, Lan. Then, a wonderful feeling will come over your body. A feeling of liberation and freedom. The pain will cease, and you will be transported, Lan...

Fantastic, Lan... The window is larger than you think. Don't be afraid. _I_ am here with you, Lan. Remember that. _I_ am here to help you, Lan. Just a bit more now. All you need to do now is take one small step forward... Wait... No! Who is that get!? Get out of here! Stop! No!

Aaaaawwwww!

How did you get in here!? Why are you even here!? I don't want to see you! I never want to see you again! You backstabbing, betraying, pathetic... You always seem to ruin everything for me! Everything that I want is snatched away from your grasp. Leave me! Get out of here! You never should have come here! You already hurt me once, now you come to hurt me again! Leave me be! Let me do what I want to do!

Let me kill myself in peace!


End file.
